


Eight Months

by kathkin



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 13:40:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12683040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathkin/pseuds/kathkin
Summary: "Now, now I know it must sound like a long while to you, but it’s hardly any time at all, in the grand scheme of things. A tiny drop in a whole ocean of time. Don’t worry."





	Eight Months

“Well, I, I have good news and I have bad news,” said the Doctor, bobbing up beside Jamie in that way he had of appearing out of the air.

“Eh – what?” said Jamie, turning as the Doctor ambled from his right shoulder to his left. He pottered away along the street, Jamie at his heels. “What’s the good news?”

“Always the best way to start,” said the Doctor as they passed the florist. “I’ve located the TARDIS.”

“Oh, aye,” said Jamie. “Where is it, then?”

“Precisely where we left it!” The Doctor clapped his hands together in delight. “Geographically speaking, at least.”

“Eh?” said Jamie. Their conversation was interrupted by a gaggle of men going the other way along the pavement. He ducked and weaved and way through and rejoined the Doctor on the other side, where he’d paused to peer in the window of a junk shop. “I really don’t think it is, Doctor.”

“Hm? Is what?”

“Where we left it.”

“Ah now, you see,” said the Doctor. “You aren’t thinking fourth dimensionally.”

“Aye, that’ll be it,” Jamie agreed.

Sticking his hands in his pockets, the Doctor went to inspect the ironmongers, with the air of a man trying to pick a new suit. “Geographically speaking, it’s where we left it. It’s just, ah, taken a little hop forward.” He demonstrated, moving a hand in a quick arc from A to B.

“Forward in time?” said Jamie.

“Yes! Quite,” said the Doctor.

“And how are we gonnae get to it?” said Jamie.

“It’s perfectly simple,” said the Doctor. “We’ll just have to wait for it to join us.” He strode on down the street.”

Jamie hastened to keep up with him. “When you say a little hop,” he said. “How far off is it?”

“Oh, not far,” said the Doctor. “Not far at all.”

“Doctor,” said Jamie. “How far?”

“I can’t be exact, you understand,” said the Doctor. “But oh, hm, about eight months.”

Jamie stopped dead, stumbling and almost colliding with a lady in smart shoes. “Eight –”

“Eight months, yes,” said the Doctor. “Do keep up.”

Keeping up, Jamie said, “eight months? And you’re just gonnae wait around here?”

“It’s the only thing we can do,” said the Doctor. “Now, now I know it must sound like a long while to you, but it’s hardly any time at all, in the grand scheme of things. A tiny drop in a whole ocean of time. Don’t worry.”

“I’m no’ worried about that,” said Jamie.

“Oh, good,” said the Doctor.

He was unsettlingly cheerful, bobbing and weaving through the pedestrians with a spring in his step, so happy to have solved his little mystery, and –

“Doctor.” Grabbing him by the shoulders, Jamie forced the Doctor to stop and look at him properly.

“Hm?”

“Eight months.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“What are we gonnae do? Are we gonnae stay in this wee town?”

“Well, there’s a slim chance the TARDIS might arrive early, so, ah, I’d say so, yes.”

“Eight months,” said Jamie. “In this one wee town, in nineteen, nineteen –”

“Nineteen seventy-six, yes,” said the Doctor.

“Aye.” Jamie nodded, thinking it over. “You’re gonnae go spare.”

“Me?” The Doctor’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re worried about me?”

“Well, aye!”

“Don’t be absurd.” Shrugging him off, the Doctor ambled on. “Really, Jamie, I was once lost in the terror-maze of Delirium Nine for five says, I think I can manage, well, a few months in England.”

“Ach, you –” They turned the corner into the market place. “Think about it. When was the last time you stayed in one place more than a few weeks? Since leaving – wherever it is you came from, anyhow?”

“Well, I –” Drifting to a halt beside the war memorial, the Doctor touched his lips in thought. “I suppose in, ah – well, when I visited – no, that wasn’t so long – hm.”

“Have you ever done it?”

“I’m sure I have,” the Doctor insisted.

“When?”

“It’ll come back to me,” the Doctor said stubbornly.

“You havenae, have you?” said Jamie. “Are ye sure you can do this?”

“I’m going to have to, aren’t I?” said the Doctor. “And really, Jamie, you’re thinking in human terms. I’m hundreds of years old, Jamie. Eight months is no time at all, to me.”

Jamie thought of the time the Doctor had tried to sit quietly in line for six hours to see the Venusian Ambassador on Titan, and said nothing. “If you say so.” They moved on across the busy market place, the full situation beginning to hit him. “What are we gonnae do?”

“We’ll work something out,” said the Doctor.

“Where are we gonnae live?” said Jamie. “What are we gonnae eat?”

“I’ll sort it out,” the Doctor said, patting his arm fondly.

“I’m gonnae have to get a job, aren’t I?” said Jamie, morose.

“You?” said the Doctor. “Perhaps _I’ll_ get a job.”

Jamie snorted. “You’ve never done an honest day’s work in your life.”

“I have so!” the Doctor protested.

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” said Jamie. “Are we gonnae need papers? It’s the future, they’re always asking for papers and wee cards and –”

“I’ll sort it out,” said the Doctor. “I used to be quite the expert forger, I’ll have you know.”

“We’re gonnae end up living in an alley,” Jamie groaned.

“Stop panicking,” said the Doctor. “Everything’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”

*

The door to their room tended to stick in cold weather. Jamie rattled and cursed and shoved till it popped open all at once, sending him stumbling over the threshold.

The room beyond was cold, and quiet. “Doctor?” he said, stepping out of his shoes.

The softest of sounds from behind the curtain, a vague, “hm?”

Rubbing his hands together, Jamie knelt to turn on the gas fire and went to the curtain. “There you are,” he said, poking his head into the bedroom, such as it was.

“Hmm,” said the Doctor again. He lay on their pushed-together beds in his shirtsleeves, gazing up at the ceiling. Jamie stepped through the curtain, letting it fall closed behind himself, draping them in orangey light. The Doctor tore his eyes from the ceiling. “Hallo.”

Jamie perched on the edge of the bed. “You havenae been lying there all day, have you?”

“No, no,” said the Doctor. “I got dressed.”

“Oh,” said Jamie. “You have a nice day?”

“There’s a crack up there,” the Doctor pointed at their worn ceiling, “very nearly shaped like the Nile Delta.”

“Oh, aye, I see,” said Jamie.

“Very nearly,” said the Doctor. He let out a sigh, and went quiet.

“Everything alright?” Jamie said.

“Quite alright,” said the Doctor. “It does go slowly, doesn’t it?”

“What does?”

“Time,” said the Doctor.

Jamie said, “ah.”

“All those moments, going by like – like drops of rain down a window,” said the Doctor. “One and then another and another and once they’re gone you can’t have any of them back.”

“Spose not,” said Jamie.

“And then there’s minutes and there’s hours and it keeps on going and going and going,” said the Doctor. “All these empty days – all the people in the other rooms, you know, they go out at the same time every day and they come back at the same time every day and it’s always the same, isn’t it?”

Quietly, Jamie put his hand atop the Doctor’s.

“So many empty lives, and, and so much ugliness,” the Doctor said. “It never stops, does it? Hm.” He stared up at the ceiling, at the crack that looked almost like the Nile. Thoughtful, Jamie stroked the back of the Doctor’s hand with his thumb.

After a moment, he said, “on my way to work this morning, I saw a dog, and it let me stroke it.”

“Hm? What?” said the Doctor.

“I’m just saying,” said Jamie. “It’s no’ all bad. I like dogs. Dogs are nice.”

“Well, really,” said the Doctor in consternation. But he looked at Jamie properly and said, “what kind of dog?”

“A big fluffy dog,” said Jamie.

“Goodness.”

“The man out walking him said his name was Trevor.”

“Trevor?” the Doctor echoed. “Oh – oh, my.” Sitting up, he took Jamie’s hand properly and said, “how was the warehouse?”

“A lot of moving boxes around,” said Jamie. “Same as always.”

“Ah,” said the Doctor.

“It’s no’ so bad,” said Jamie with a shrug.

“Hm.” The Doctor’s expression grew troubled.

“What now?” said Jamie, giving his hand a squeeze. “Eh?”

In grim tones, the Doctor said, “you’re enjoying this.”

“No, I – I wouldnae say that,” said Jamie.

“Don’t try and pretend you aren’t,” said the Doctor.

“Don’t get me wrong,” said Jamie. “I’m looking forward to getting the TARDIS back and all, I’ll be glad when this is over, but – I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Once I got used to all the cars and the smells this century’s nae so bad. It’s been sort of nice, having a routine – being normal for a change.”

“I understand,” said the Doctor. But he was looking at Jamie so ruefully.

“Ach.” Sighing, Jamie stepped out of his shoes and crawled onto the bed.

“Oh!” said the Doctor as Jamie clambered over him. Softly, Jamie kissed him, and he said, “Mmrhph.”

When Jamie drew back the Doctor looked faintly surprised, as he often did after being kissed, as if every time, it was new. He settled down on his own half of the bed, snuggling up against the Doctor, running a hand down his chest.

“Mm.” He nuzzled the Doctor’s shoulder. “I hate seeing you like this.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” said the Doctor.

“It’s alright,” said Jamie. “I understand. It’s no’ you. This isnae you.”

The Doctor’s arm slipped around him and Jamie sighed, breathing in his scent, eyes fluttering closed.

The best part of their semi-stranded little life was the mornings when he didn’t have to be at the warehouse, when they had nowhere to be, no monsters to fight or planets to save or boxes to move, when they could laze around till the sun was high in the sky, safe behind their curtain, safe in each other’s arms. Drowsily, he wondered if he could find the time for a nap before dinner.

“Did you get the milk?” he said.

“ _Milk_ ,” said the Doctor. He accentuated that single syllable so carefully, the word just at the moment tumbling back into his head.

With a groan, Jamie pulled himself up. “I’ll go out again.”

“No, no,” said the Doctor. “You’ve been hard at work all day – I’ll, ah, I’ll go.” He scrambled off the bed and drew back the curtain with a soft rattle of rings.

Lying back against the pillows, Jamie watched him fuss about with his coat, adjusting the sit, brushing off imaginary dust.

“Just the one pint, mind,” he said. 

“I know.” The Doctor bustled about, hunting for his shoes.

“One pint of normal milk,” said Jamie. “I know what you’re like.”

“Normal is a very – subjective value,” said the Doctor.

“Ach, see?”

Holding his shoes in his hand, the Doctor scampered back to the bed and planted a kiss on his forehead. “I can manage to buy milk, you know. Shan’t be long.” He stepped into his shoes and with a last cheery wave slipped out onto the landing.

With a sigh, Jamie rolled onto the Doctor’s half of the bed, into the warm patch he’d left behind. He could manage a quick wee nap, he decided. “Hmm,” he mumbled aloud, toying with the corner of a pillowcase. “Four more months.” Closing his eyes, he slipped into a doze.


End file.
